Harry Potter and the Godric's Curse Rewrite!
by NewProphecy
Summary: Harry Potter has a problem. Neville's screwed up, and this time Harry was dragged into it. No one knows how to fix him. Another problem: There's a monster inside Hogwarts turning students to stone. Worse? Harry's being blamed. It's going to be a long year... T as a precaution. Writing style has improved since hiatus and the original story. In the time of Chamber of Secrets.
1. Chapter 1

**Harry Potter and the Godric's Curse**

**Harry Potter has a problem. Neville's screwed up, and this time Harry was dragged into it. No one knows how to fix him. Another problem: There's a monster inside Hogwarts turning students to stone. Worse? Harry's being blamed. It's going to be a long year.**

**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, ANY ORIGINAL PLOTS, OR ANY OF J.K. ROWLING'S CHARACTERS.  
STORY DISCLAIMED.**

**Chapter One  
Not Harry**

_CRASH! WHOOSH!_

"_Neville, lower your wand!"_

"_I – I'm sorry!"_

"_What did you do?"_

"_I didn't – I didn't mean to – I killed him!"_

"_Neville, put your wand away!"_

Harry was having a bad day. It didn't start well and it didn't end well.

He woke up from a very strange dream in the morning, where he was bitten by a snake and had to join Slytherin house. He was locked in a Slytherin dorm and was told he had to stay there because he was one of them now, and if it had been a lion that'd bitten him he could have stayed in Gryffindor. Harry woke up from the dream when Draco Malfoy had started dueling him in the dormitory, and hit him in the face with a flash of bright green light.

The rest of the morning had gone by in a distracted blur. He was late in dressing; he put his socks on backwards and nearly strangled himself with his tie (still Gryffindor, thank goodness). He ate halfheartedly, hardly listening to the bickering quarrel between Ron and Hermione (his two best friends, also in Gryffindor) about Transfiguration homework.

Harry felt heavy and sluggish all day for some reason. Everything about him seemed to take a wrong turn. Seamus, paired with Harry in Charms class during revision of the first-year spell _Incendio,_ nearly lit the classroom on fire with his inferno created by his mispronunciation of the incantation. Seamus apologized profusely to Flitwick as Harry sheepishly gave the teacher back his steaming hat.

"Cheer up, mate, it could be worse," Ron said helpfully. "You could be Seamus."

They both turned their heads to see Seamus being handed a detention slip by Flitwick as they slipped out of the classroom and towards History of Magic.

In History of Magic, everyone but Hermione fell asleep. It was the only peaceful class Harry had all day – and, though he didn't know it yet, it would be the only peaceful class he had for a very long time.

When they reached the Gryffindor table at lunch, Ron and Hermione were over their debate from breakfast. Hermione had won, as usual, and refused to let Ron copy her Transfiguration homework from the night before. As a result, Ron was ignoring everyone at lunch and scribbling furiously on parchment while grabbing pointless jargon from his textbook.

"You wouldn't be stressing like this if you'd done your homework," Hermione quipped, "like Harry and me." She glanced at Harry, who paused in his eating and gave her a look.

"Don't drag me into this," he said, going back to his potatoes. Hermione gave him an odd stare. Ron merely grunted and continued scribbling.

"Bloody hell!" he suddenly snapped, throwing his quill against the table. Hermione and Harry sat up straight, watching him with strange looks. "How is _anyone_ expecting me to _know_ this stuff? McGonagall's out of her mind! _And_ I'm out of ink." He folded his arms huffily. "I'm _not_ doing this work."

"You'd better," Hermione said, sounding stiff as McGonagall herself. "Professor McGonagall's not happy with you already, seeing as though you and Harry nearly got yourselves _expelled_ by driving that flying car to school!" Ron flinched, obviously still sore over having received a Howler about it days before. "You already can't participate in practical work, with your broken wand, so she'll be _furious _if you don't do your written work."

"Fine, fine," Ron growled. He turned and looked across the table, where another redhead was seated. "Oy, Ginny! Give me an inkwell, will you?"

Ginny, who was scribbling furiously as well, looked up. She looked at Ron, and then her eyes turned to Harry before flitting away. She buried her now pink face in her black book. "Er…sorry, Ron," she said in a quiet voice. "I'm using it." Before anyone could object, she buried her face back into the book and turned her back on the trio.

"Is _every_ Weasley incapable of doing their homework on time?" Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

Harry, however, wasn't so sure that Ginny was doing homework. She seemed far too embarrassed to have just been finishing up Charms work. But then, he decided, it wouldn't affect him so it wasn't any of his business.

After lunch Harry found himself in a humiliating situation in Defense Against the Dark Arts with _Gilderoy Lockhart _as the professor. The man was an absolute nutter. Completely vain and incompetent (and having captured the hearts of all the girls in the class), Lockhart favored Harry above the rest for his fame in being the one and only _Boy Who Lived._

Needless to say, Harry sprinted out of that classroom as fast as he could possibly go.

Harry found himself in Transfiguration next. There was a pop quiz. Harry, unprepared, tried to rack his mind for useless bits of vocabulary. He was completely caught off-guard when the class was put into pairs for mandatory practical exams. Harry was paired with Neville.

That was the last thing he remembered from that class. Of course, there were bits and blurs:

CRASH! WHOOSH!

"Neville, _lower your wand!"_

"I – I'm sorry!"

"What did you _do?"_

"I didn't – I didn't mean to – _I killed him!"_

"Neville, _put your wand away!"_

Then there was nothing. For a while, Harry felt himself floating. He could hear a few voices now and then, but for a very long time he felt underwater. Everything was distorted, unreal. He dreamed a bit.

Harry dreamed of staring at himself in the mirror. He saw his lightning-bolt scar, bright red against his pale forehead. Then the scar turned frosty white, still sticking out behind his messy black bangs. He reached out with a hand and touched the mirror, and the reflection rippled.

Dream-Harry felt woozy as the image grew distorted, until finally it cleared and Harry was left dumbstruck. It wasn't him anymore, but a lion. Harry looked down at himself: completely normal. But his reflection… There was something strange.

The dream faded into nothingness, and Harry felt himself floating again. This time, however, he felt like he was floating in the clouds instead of underwater. He could hear better, and he felt lighter. He felt healed of any ailments he'd had in the past. Being in the clouds…it was nice.

Harry didn't dream again. He felt like he was floating, and then…

His eyes snapped open. He was conscious. It was dark, he was alone, he was confused – but he was awake. He let out a sigh, surprised at how hoarse his throat felt. It hadn't been long since he'd spoken, so why did his voice sound so raw?

"Mr. Potter! You're awake!"

Harry looked up to see Madame Pomfrey, the school Healer, striding towards him. As she approached, torches lit themselves. Harry looked around in surprise. He was in the Hospital Wing! But why?

"Welcome back to the world of the living, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey said tonelessly, looking him over once or twice. She hummed with dissatisfaction.

"You're quite undernourished, young man – I'd expect more from a Quidditch player like yourself! But, as it is…" She hummed once, seemingly distracted, and strode towards the bedside table.

"Gave us quite a scare, you did," she muttered busily. "It's good you woke up now. Your friends would be _frantic_ if you still hadn't woken by morning. They'll be frantic anyway, but ah, what can we do…? Nothing, apparently – tried _everything,_ simply everything."

Madame Pomfrey sighed ruefully. "Not much _can_ be done, but Dumbledore, ah that wonderful man, bless him, always has a plan." She tutted twice, busying herself with pouring all sorts of liquids from separate bottles into one little vial.

"Of course, a dangerous man, little mad, but aren't we all? Yes indeed," she answered for herself quickly, as if she was trying to keep the ward filled with the sound of her own voice and didn't want Harry to cut in at any point.

"But yes, where would we be without him? I'll tell you where: we'd all be running around like chickens, and I'd have students in here all day! Keeps a firm house, clean castle, don't you know? Genius, that man – ah, yes. Finished." She picked up the vial she'd been fiddling with for the past monologue and tilted Harry's head back.

"Open!" she ordered stiffly. Harry, confused as to why she didn't simply give it to him, did as he was told. She poured half of the vial's contents into his mouth, and it chilled him as it slid down his throat.

"'s cold," Harry croaked out, before Madame Pomfrey could continue. Madame Pomfrey froze, looking almost nervous.

"Yes – yes, well, that'll happen," she said briskly, clearing her throat. "Now – erm…" She looked flustered, and turned around as if willing someone to come in and take her place.

Then she composed herself, giving her head a little shake as if to clear it, and then continued on quite vigorously. "Let's see – well, besides the obvious, there's the malnutrition, slight concussion, and bruising to the back, but nothing too severe…"

_That explains the headache and aching back, _Harry thought broodingly. Then, in a slightly delayed reaction, Harry frowned. Something didn't add up. "'Besides the obvious?'" he echoed curiously. "What's that mean?" Madame Pomfrey gave a little jump and looked slightly angry, as if she'd made a mistake she wished she hadn't.

"Well, Mr. Potter…" she trailed off. "There's no easy way to explain this – goodness knows I've never had to explain it before! – but there's no going around it." Madame Pomfrey snatched up the nearest mirror, took in a deep breath, and then muttered, "I sure am glad I gave you a Calming Draught in that mixture, Mr. Potter. This will be a shock."

The mirror flashed in Harry's face. And he couldn't believe who was staring back at him. It wasn't him, that was for sure. He felt like he should know the image in the mirror, but it simply was _not Harry._ There was no way.

Green eyes met green eyes. Both were filled with shock and brimming with worry. Messy black hair fell over the eyes – or rather, messy black _fur, b_ecause Harry was no longer the Boy Who Lived. He was no longer a boy. He was a cat.


	2. Chapter 2

**Harry Potter and the Godric's Curse**

**Harry Potter has a problem. Neville's screwed up, and this time Harry was dragged into it. No one knows how to fix him. Another problem: There's a monster inside Hogwarts turning students to stone. Worse? Harry's being blamed. It's going to be a long year.**

**Chapter Two  
Enter Swifty**

Harry didn't feel as if it was real. He felt like he was dream and that he had to wake up sometime.

He was still facing that it was the cruel truth as he was visited by Professor Dumbledore the next morning, requesting his presence in a proper meeting in his office. Harry had nodded numbly, unsure of how to convey how he was taking in the situation. It was impossible.

_Neville had turned Harry into a cat._

What Harry had heard was that there was an accident in Transfiguration. Something had gone wrong with Neville's incantation – he'd _sneezed_ in the middle of a spell – and Harry had been blasted straight in the chest with it. There was a lot of commotion, and Harry didn't wake up until the middle of the night.

By then, well… All of the teachers had done what they could think of, but nothing appeared to work. Not a single one of them knew how to _fix_ Harry, or his situation. It seemed utterly hopeless. No spell was strong enough. Not even Dumbledore was quite sure of why regular Transfiguration spells weren't reversing the effects.

Neville couldn't remember exactly what he'd said. It just figured, Harry thought somberly, that the boy with the worst memory in the school had dragged him into this. He'd never remember what he'd said, and therefore the teachers couldn't identify the spell that'd done this to Harry.

No one knew what to do. What were they supposed to do with him now? Harry was certainly no a wizard anymore, so how could he continue residing in Hogwarts? But, Dumbledore (the wise old man, that wonderful, mad old man) had thought of _one_ temporary solution that Harry could stand:

Harry would continue to live at Hogwarts, and remain a student.

How? That was what Dumbledore needed to see Harry about. He had summoned him to his office for a proper meeting, the morning after Harry had first seen his feline reflection.

The funny thing about Harry's transformation: it was almost like there was no physical change, besides shape. His hair/fur was still messy and black, and his eyes were still almond-shaped and green. He even still had his lightning-bolt on the top of his head, except now, where the scar cut into his head, there was no black fur but frosty white.

The not-so-funny thing about Harry's transformation: he couldn't speak. He could only communicate to humans thanks to Dumbledore, who charmed a collar to grant Harry the ability to speak human tongue.

The whole ordeal was very difficult. Two mornings after Harry had woken up, his concussion and bruising had been healed by various potions. He was finally fit to leave the Hospital Wing and go to see Dumbledore.

Harry padded into Dumbledore's office carefully. His fur prickled, and he shrank down a little. Dumbledore's office seemed so big now; after all, Harry was the size of a kitten. Harry gulped. He looked around carefully, and then cleared his throat.

"Um…hello?" he called. "Professor Dumbledore?" No reply came. Harry felt uneasy at the silence. His jaws parted instinctively to taste the air.

_Ash…and bird? What is that?_ Harry padded forward, into the office. His claws clicking against the ground was somewhat comforting rather than the simple silence.

"Harry."

Harry leaped up, and then landed back onto the ground, with one paw raised and his claws out. His tail fur stuck out, and his green eyes were wide.

Dumbledore stood on the staircase, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement at Harry's overreaction. "Nervous, hm?" he asked, smiling.

"Nervous?" grunted another voice, unfamiliar and clipped. "He's jumpier than a paranoid rabbit! Great stars, what are you – man, cat, or _mouse?_"

Harry felt his ears go hot. "Wh-Who was that?" he asked, feeling shamed. He lowered his paw and sheathed his claws, retracting them into his paw. He flattened his ears, embarrassed.

"Now, now, don't be rude," Dumbledore quipped, turning his gaze downwards. There was a grumble. "I don't have to speak your language to know you've said something offensive." Harry strained his eyes to see, and then saw a familiar shape sitting beside the headmaster.

With a scrawny shape covered by thick, dusty fur and large hawk-like yellow eyes, Mrs. Norris had a positively scathing look to her. "Eh. None of your business, how I talk to other cats, _Headmaster,_" she growled in a sarcastic, biting tone. She stared straight into Harry's eyes. "You're _him_ then, huh?" she demanded. Harry was too shocked to answer. "Huh. You're nothing special…but you'll shape up, eh?"

Dumbledore cut in, descending the staircase. "Harry, Mrs. Norris. I'm sure you're acquainted."

"Briefly," Harry breathed, astonished by the voice that had emerged from the cat every student in school loathed with passion.

Dumbledore's steps neared Harry. "You'll know her better by the end of the year," he assured. Harry wasn't sure if this was meant to be comforting or not. Dumbledore sat down at his desk and blinked at Harry. He motioned to the seat in front of his desk. "Come, Harry," he said. "We have much to discuss."

"Don't forget me, you old badger," Mrs. Norris snapped, bounding down the stairs and smoothly appearing by Harry's side.

He was alarmed by her height. She was a head taller than him, which was positively humiliating since last year he and Ron had wanted to kick her. As if she could hear his memories, Mrs. Norris turned and scowled at him deeply. Then she turned and gracefully leaped up onto the chair before Dumbledore's desk. She turned her head. "Coming, tom?" she hissed.

"T-Tom?"

"Yes, moron, _tom,_" Mrs. Norris sighed impatiently, flicking her ears. She rolled her eyes. "Tom-cat. Tom. You _are_ a male, aren't you?" she sneered. Harry's fur felt too hot.

"Y-Yes," he stammered.

He stood there for a moment, unsure of how to approach the situation, but then he fell into a crouch and leaped. His landing was shaky, and Harry nearly crashed straight into Mrs. Norris, but he stood on top of the chair easily and didn't damage his dignity…too much. After all, he was still a cat and smaller than _Mrs. Norris._

"Now," Dumbledore said, "let's get down to business."

By the end of the meeting, Harry had finally figured out how he was going to function as a Hogwarts student. Some classes, he could remain in. However, others weren't as easy. In those classes, Harry would go to Mrs. Norris. She was going to teach him the advantages of being a cat, and how to manage his new body.

It was just a matter of figuring out when he would attend class, and when he would train with Mrs. Norris.

Potions was out, obviously. He couldn't stir, mince, crush… It was pointless. Harry tried not to feel bummed. It was easy. Herbology was another class that was very difficult to manage. Some classes, they supposed, he could attend, but most of them he would instead spend with Mrs. Norris.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Charms were all classes that Harry figured he could stay in. He was sure they'd find a cure for him eventually, and when that time came he would need to know the theory of the work, even if he couldn't perform practical work at the moment.

However, History of Magic…there was no point in being there, human or cat. Harry quickly decided it would be best to see Mrs. Norris during those periods.

"Well! That settles that," Dumbledore sighed after they'd finished. Harry suppressed a sigh of relief. It had been a long meeting, and he was tired. "And now, Harry, it would probably be best if you went back to the Hospital Wing."

Harry's whiskers twitched with surprise. "Sir?" he asked. He was finally feeling better! Did Dumbledore sense Harry's reluctance to reveal himself to the whole school? It wasn't like they didn't know, but Harry still felt nervous about facing them.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I'm sure it's just Madame Pomfrey fretting over this whole ordeal, but I'm also certain that you may have some certain visitors who are anxious to see you."

Harry's eyes widened with surprise. _Ron! And Hermione!_ Harry thought wistfully. He hadn't seen his friends since before the accident… He was suddenly very nervous, but excited at once.

Dumbledore smiled. "I've just gotten the feeling that I'm needed elsewhere," he said thoughtfully. He winked at Harry. "I'll leave you to it, then." And then Dumbledore stood and began walking towards the staircase. Harry leaped off of the chair, and started padding towards the door. He heard Mrs. Norris following him. "Oh, and Harry?"

Harry turned his head to see Dumbledore watching him from atop the staircase. Dumbledore lifted his chin. "My password is _Draconis Myth._ My door is always open." With a little nod, Dumbledore dismissed himself and turned into his own quarters.

Harry revealed a very uncatlike grin before heading out of Dumbledore's office. Mrs. Norris followed.

"Well, here we are," Mrs. Norris grunted once they'd arrived at the Hospital Wing. It was the first either of them had spoken the entire walk back. "Get on in."

Harry nodded to her. "Thanks, Mrs. Norris. I'll…I'll see you Monday morning, then."

"Anytime, tom," she growled. "Just remember this: starting Monday, you'll stop calling me by that formal _Norris_ stuff. My name is _Swifty,_ got it? I'm not just some formal pet; I'm a _cat._"

Harry was taken aback. "Er, got it." He nodded. "See you Monday then." She nodded.

Neither of them moved though, or made a motion for the other to leave. Harry stared at the threshold of the door, debating on how he could enter. Mrs. Norris stood, tail swishing back and forth, watching him. Harry sighed and turned to her. "Are you waiting for something?" he eventually asked.

"Yeah," she meowed, "for you to get in there." Harry didn't answer her, but he sighed and stared at the door again. "Scared?" This time she didn't sound scathing. It was a genuine question. Harry shrugged. "Just go in, then," she snapped, sounding sharper again. "They're your friends, aren't they? You'll live."

Harry blinked at her in surprise, but then he narrowed his eyes. "All right," he sighed somewhat irritably, "I'm going." And then, just to spite her, he strode in confidently with his head and tail held high.

He entered the Hospital Wing with an air of certainty, but that faded as soon as the dry scent of sterilized everything hit him. He felt trapped by the closed in space. And then, all at once:

"Harry?"

"Harry! It's you!"

Harry looked up to see Ron and Hermione beaming at him from across the room, sitting at the bed he'd been occupying since he'd begun his stay. Harry trotted over to them, his heart pounding. "Hey," he said. He flicked his tail nervously.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, fine," Harry answered. "Pretty great, actually. I don't have to put up with Snape anyone." He tried to look optimistic, but Ron and Hermione just gave him odd looks. "Does everyone know?" he asked curiously. Ron and Hermione exchanged uncomfortable glances. "The whole school?" Harry sighed.

"Sorry, mate," Ron said. He really sounded genuinely sympathetic.

"No one from the class but us and Neville knew what really happened," Hermione said, "but somehow it slipped out. The three of us didn't say _anything _though, so I'm not sure how it got out…"

"Snape," Ron answered suddenly, angrily. "He was in here awhile, with lots of potions! I'll bet you anything that he told Malfoy and the rest of Slytherin house, and they told everyone else." He sounded so certain, and Harry wouldn't put the nasty trick past Snape.

"You don't have any proof of that, though, do you Ron?" Hermione hissed, frustrated. She shook her head. "I told you at lunch…" Harry, sensing a quarrel coming on, tried to intervene – but he didn't need to. Ron was already looking past Harry at something in the doorway.

"Oh hey, Neville!"

Harry felt his heart sink. The _last _person he wanted to talk to right now was Neville. Neville was the reason he was in this mess. Harry wasn't even sure what he felt about Neville right now. He didn't really feel angry, but he wasn't completely happy with him either. What was it? Harry couldn't put his finger on it…well, that was because Neville changed those to paws, but in any case Harry was puzzled.

Harry turned his head to see Neville, halfway in the threshold and bright red, as if he'd tried to escape from the situation as well. "Er, hi," said Neville quietly. His eyes were trained on the ground as he shuffled over to them.

"How are you, Neville?" Hermione asked gently. Harry was surprised by her tone of voice.

Neville didn't respond. His feet shifted restlessly, and he looked close to exploding with stress. Harry was surprised to see the boy so troubled. Then Neville looked up, meeting Harry's eyes for the first time, and then blurted out, "I'm _so_ sorry! I didn't mean for this to happen – it was an _accident,_ I swear." He sounded so desperate, so regretful. Harry was surprised by the emotion in Neville's voice.

With a pang of concern, Harry nodded rapidly. "It's okay," he said. "You don't have to worry about –"

"Yes I do," Neville interrupted miserably. "I'm just – I'm _really sorry,_ Harry, I am." Then he turned around and tore out of the Hospital Wing as fast as he could.

Harry stared at the doorway, almost expecting Neville to reappear a few seconds later, but he didn't. "What was _that?_" he asked, shock evident in his voice.

"Poor Neville," Hermione sighed. Harry turned to see her shaking her head.

"Haven't gotten a full sentence out of him for days," Ron said, looking surprisingly concerned.

"He's feeling really bad about what happened," Hermione explained. Harry felt his ears flush hot with embarrassment. "He doesn't want to talk about it, and I think it's really bothering him."

"His gran sent him a Howler because of it," Ron stated grimly, his face dark as if he was remembering his own. "He took it up to the Gryffindor Tower before – you know – but we could still hear some of it from the Great Hall."

"Yikes," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ron and Hermione said together.

Harry felt a pang of guilt. Neville was stressing over the whole ordeal, and from what Harry had heard it was a complete accident. He wondered, not for the first time, _"How is everyone else going to take it?"_

Somehow he knew that things were going to get a _lot_ harder for the "Boy"-Who-Lived from now on. He just hoped he'd be strong enough to withstand it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Harry Potter and the Godric's Curse**

**Harry Potter has a problem. Neville's screwed up, and this time Harry was dragged into it. No one knows how to fix him. Another problem: There's a monster inside Hogwarts turning students to stone. Worse? Harry's being blamed. It's going to be a long year.**

**Chapter Three  
Stealth and Telepathy**

Harry started hearing voices in his sleep after he returned to classes. He was finally released from the Hospital Wing, and began living in Gryffindor Tower again. It was awkward at first, with Neville struggling to stay in the same room as Harry, and Seamus and Dean staring incredulously whenever Harry leaped up onto his bed, but Harry figured he had to get used to it.

Harry was used to whispers. They seemed to follow him everywhere. First year was the worst. Everyone had expected him to be some great hero, not the scrawny eleven-year-old he was. Now he was a second year, and the first years had always stared at him with the same incredulity as others had at the beginning of last year. And now, with the accident…Harry was sure he'd be hearing far more whispers that ever before – and he was right.

He just didn't expect some of the whispers to be in his sleep. They were simple murmurs, almost like advice. _Lighter on your paws – balance! You've got a tail for a reason!_ He wasn't sure how they fit in with the rest of his dream, but they kept him alert when he was awake, because somehow they always helped him out when he was training with Mrs. Norris – or rather, Swifty.

It was strange, having dreams about himself as a human and then waking up to remember that he wasn't. It was so close and yet so far. Harry kept hoping that one morning he'd wake up as a human, and he'd stay a cat in dreams, but so far: nothing. The dreams meant nothing.

Harry couldn't help but feel disappointed. He wanted to go back to being human. But it didn't look like that was going to happen any time soon. In fact, some of his dreams were changing somewhat cat-like. In his last one, he'd been hunting in the Forbidden Forest with Swifty. The vision had left him disgusted.

He lingered over his dreams one morning as he watched Ron and the others preparing for classes. His head rested on his paws, tail swishing back and forth, and his whiskers twitched as they shot him envious glances in that he didn't have to dress in uniform anymore.

At breakfast, Harry hardly ate. He kept staring at the meal, feeling sickened by the thought of having to catch and eat mice instead. He pressed his chin to the table, aware of everyone else chattering and eating around him. All he could think of was hunting.

_Please don't let Swifty teach me that today,_ he thought in a sigh, thinking of Herbology class. He'd be with Swifty today. The thought almost depressed him.

The students were dismissed from the Great Hall, and Harry walked with Ron and Hermione to the greenhouses. He was sure that were stares and pointing going on around him, but he was ignoring them with narrowed eyes and a lashing tail. He walked between Ron and Hermione, anxious to arrive at the Herbology greenhouses.

When they finally reached them, Harry bid Ron and Hermione farewell and slipped out of the door to Greenhouse Three, padding into an open green field.

In the center of the meadow, there was Swifty, sitting with her tail curled around her paws. Harry trotted over to her somewhat halfheartedly. He approached her with a respectful dip of the head. "Hi, Swifty," he greeted her. "What are we working on today?"

Swifty's eyes glinted mischievously before she stood, slinking around Harry with such swiftness and smoothness that the grass hardly bent beneath her paws. She paused briefly beside him to hiss in his ear, "_Stealth, _tom. Today we go over stealth." Finished circling him, she turned to stand in front of him.

"Great," Harry meowed, flicking his tail back and forth. "What's stealth?"'

Swifty rolled her eyes impatiently, as she usually did. "Stars forsake you – you're stupider than a rat," she chastised. Harry felt the comment sting, and he narrowed his eyes defiantly. "Fine, I guess I'll have to explain it to you, then." She crouched and leaped, almost all at once, landing behind Harry. He watched her soar overhead and land gracefully on all fours. "Come along," she growled.

Harry followed her, trotting to keep up with her brisk pace. "Cats are graceful," Swifty growled over her shoulder at Harry. "They're smooth. Slick. Furtive. Covert. _Stealthy_.

"Stealth," she meowed, "is what we use to go unnoticed by others. We avoid detection. Through this, we learn the basic steps of hunting." Harry cringed under the fierce look in her amber eyes. "Also, it's another step at grace."

"Grace?" Harry repeated.

"Do I have an echo?" Swifty snapped. "Quit interrupting, tom!" Harry fell silent, bowing his head as they entered the castle and began ascending the stairs. "Yes, grace. Elegance. Smoothness. Dignified. Style. Understood?" Harry nodded.

Swifty continued, "Grace is what makes us cats, and sets us apart from the others. We go about our business with poise. We always know what we're doing is right, and we _show_ it. Never feel that what you're doing is wrong, tom. If you doubt yourself, you've already lost the battle, because you've lost your faith."

"What does stealth have to do with this?" Harry asked.

"Everything!" Swifty snapped, stopping dead in her tracks and rounding on Harry. Her ears pinned back and she bared her teeth. Harry gave a jump of surprise. "Stealth makes grace. Grace is confidence! Confidence is _everything!_" The growl she summoned was from the very depth of her throat.

"G-Got it," Harry stammered nervously. "Stealth. Grace. Confidence. Understood."

"You'd better," Swifty muttered darkly, turning around and continuing her ascension of the castle. "I'm not training you to be a rat. You're a cat, and you'd better _act_ like one."

Finally, they reached their destination: Filch's office.

Harry stood, frozen. "I can't," he meowed. "Filch…er…he doesn't really like me."

"He doesn't like anyone," Swifty meowed, shrugging. "But once you get to know him, it's fine." She seemed unconcerned, and began drawing her paw over her face to wash it.

Harry frowned. Swifty wasn't here to talk about Filch, obviously. "Why are we here?"

"This is our starting point." Swifty sat down, curling her tail around her paws. She narrowed her eyes and meowed, "I am sending you on a mission, of sorts. First, a few tips, though." She dropped into a low crouch, distributing her weight evenly. Harry stared at her. "Buffoon. Copy me!" she snapped.

Harry dropped into a lopsided crouch at once.

"No, no, no," Swifty sighed, padding over to him. She used her paws to shift Harry's shoulders so that he was even. "Now stop tensing like that. You'll never be smooth if your muscles are harder than rock! Relax, tom – breathe." Harry let out the breath he'd been holding, sinking lower to the ground. "Not perfect, but it'll do," Swifty muttered.

"What's this supposed to be?" Harry asked, lifting his head.

"It's a basic stealth crouch," Swifty explained. "With all of your weight the same, you can slide across the ground like a snake." Harry felt nervous by her analogy, but then felt impressed as she dropped into a flawless crouch and began moving quicker than lightning, her belly nearly flat to the ground as she slithered about. She was quick, and there wasn't a sound coming from her.

"Well, give it a shot," Swifty meowed sharply as she sat up, sounding quite pleased with herself by Harry's awestruck look.

Harry nodded, padding forward cautiously as he pressed himself to the ground. His claws clicked against the ground loudly. He looked up at Swifty, who covered her face with a paw.

"This is going to be a long lesson," she grumbled. "For stars' sake, tom, _sheathe your claws!_"

"Well," Swifty sighed, "you're no natural at it…but you'll do." Harry didn't know if this was a compliment or not. Swifty didn't give him the chance to debate it before she continued.

"Here's your assignment: You are to head to each of the classrooms I say, and taking one item from each." She explained to him his mission, explaining each one carefully. "It shouldn't happen now, especially with the crouches and techniques you _just learned…_" she trailed off warningly, "but if you get caught, I will cover for you."

Harry's eyes widened. "Cover?" he asked. "What do you mean by that?"

Swifty twitched her whiskers. "You'll see," she murmured mischievously. She turned quickly and left, leaving Harry to his assignment. "Remember: I'll be watching," she called over her shoulder as she bounded down the staircase.

Harry took off shortly after, padding down the staircase with anxiety burrowed deep in his belly. He walked around the familiar halls that seemed far too big now, and made his way to his first destination.

"First objective…" Harry muttered to himself, pacing outside of McGonagall's classroom a few minutes later. Harry took a deep breath. "Metal key. Back of the room, by McGonagall's desk. Here I go," he meowed aloud. With that, he slipped through the half-closed door.

By the sound of it, there was a class. The voices were high-pitched…first years. Harry caught sight of a Ravenclaw chest on one girl, but then snuck behind a bookshelf before he was noticed. His small figure easily fit behind and between almost everything, and now he was weaving through objects sneakily.

Trying not to be seen, he stood behind one shelf for a moment before continuing. He crouched low, sliding beneath desks and sniffing the air for human scent to avoid getting caught. _That's a familiar scent,_ he thought curiously. _Who is that?_

_Focus!_ The voice inside his head was Swifty's. Harry had been around her too often, he supposed, if he was starting to hear her in his mind. He shrugged it off, shaking his head.

Harry emerged from beneath the desk, making a run for it and swiftly pouncing behind another desk. He crept silently alongside the desks, not gaining attention from the students, or the teacher. McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Students," she said clearly, "I need you to pair up and prepare your tables by clearing them of your belongings. We're going to practice our paper clip assignment. Hopefully you came well prepared."

Harry took this moment to leap forward. He swerved and dashed behind McGonagall's desk, where a jar of keys was held. He raised his head in pride. _I need one of those, _he thought, scooping his right paw into it. He grabbed a key in his claw. His ease, he attached it to a small hook on his gold collar.

_One down…two to go._

By the end of the assignment, Harry was exhausted.

"Well done, tom, well done!" Swifty praised. "Better than I'd expected, anyway. Human or not, I never had to cover for you." Harry felt a twinge of pride. Had he pleased the ill-tempered she-cat? Then she spoke again. "Of course, you blundered like a dying badger in the greenhouses. Whatever you were doing, _I _didn't teach you _that._"

Harry nodded, knowing better than to argue with her, and stared down at the items: a key from McGonagall, a paper he'd ripped out from a textbook in the History of Magic classroom, and a stem of mint from the greenhouse. They were not of any importance to him. Why had Swifty wanted these?

"These aren't worth anything, I know," Swifty meowed. "They will be returned."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "I stole them to _return _them?" he hissed in disbelief. "Why?"

"Because I needed to test you," Swifty explained, narrowing her eyes. "See how well you listened, how you adapted. Paws-on experience, that sort of thing."

_Still a pointless test,_ Harry grumped inwardly, dipping his head.

Swifty hissed, pinning her ears back and cuffing Harry about the ear. "Disrespectful vole!" she yowled. "I'll have you strung up by your tail for that! Oh your whiskers'll quiver then, tom!" Harry was too taken aback to respond. "Ack – you'll never learn..."

"I – I didn't say anything!" Harry spluttered. _Out loud._ What was Swifty talking about?

Swifty raised her paw again, about to clout him over the head with a distasteful hiss, but then something connected in her eyes. She looked puzzled. "You…_you!_" she sighed. She began to shake, and she let out a rusty old purr. "Oh, this is priceless," she muttered. "The halfling has connection. Oh. Great."

"Halfling?"

"Half-human, half-cat," Swifty sighed, shaking her head. "Oh, this is just _great…_ Wait till Stripes gets a load of this…"

Harry tilted his head to the side. "Then…I've got what? Connected?"

"It's nothing for you to worry about now, tom," Swifty grunted, sitting up straight and looking as displeased with Harry as she usually did. "You did something useful. Did me a real favor. Now classes are almost over; you're dismissed." Harry wasn't convinced.

"Get lost," Swifty clarified, growling and flicking her ears. _Now!_ Swifty's voice echoed inside of his head.

Harry dipped his head quickly, too overcome by shock to question it. He turned and scrambled away, in the direction of the greenhouses to meet up with Ron and Hermione.

_Swifty heard my thoughts! _Harry thought incredulously. _And I heard hers! Can she hear me now? Hello? Swifty? _No answer.

Harry sighed and shook his head, frustrated. It seemed like things were just getting stranger and stranger around here…


	4. Chapter 4

**Harry Potter and the Godric's Curse**

**Harry Potter has a problem. Neville's screwed up, and this time Harry was dragged into it. No one knows how to fix him. Another problem: There's a monster inside Hogwarts turning students to stone. Worse? Harry's being blamed. It's going to be a long year.**

**Chapter Four  
The Owlrey**

Harry, flanked by Ron and Hermione, was heading to Transfiguration. The hallways were filled to the brim with students from every year, every house. It was packed. Harry was struggling not to get stepped on, and with Ron and Hermione on either side of him it was slightly easier. Still, he sprinted to the Transfiguration classroom as fast as he could.

_It was annoying to get to class before the accident, but now it's unbearable,_ Harry complained inwardly, shaking his head angrily.

Finally they reached the wing with Professor McGonagall's classroom. All heaving sighs of relief, the trio walked towards the half-opened door. Harry had been confused when she heard voices already inside. They were early as it was. But as they drew near he was surprised to hear that the voices inside were in cat language.

Harry waved his tail to signal to Ron and Hermione not to go in when he heard his own name. He pricked his ears and began to listen. "It's McGonagall and Swi – Mrs. Norris," he hissed to his two friends. They exchanged confused glances.

"…_haven't discussed it with Professor Dumbledore yet! I told you already!"_

"_Well, it's not really his decision, _is_ it? It's –"_

"_I know very well whose decision it is, but shouldn't he have a say?"_

"_Why? Rose wants him there. You haven't heard him, Stripes. Fantastic connection. Better than you."_

"_Swifty, get out of my classroom!" _Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. _She called her Swifty._

"_I'm telling you, Stripes, there's not a chance in the world that Dumbledore can refuse. Rose wants him. He's coming. Case closed."_

Harry heard pawsteps coming their way. He tensed, dipping his head as Mrs. Norris appeared in the doorway. She fixed him with a firm glare, and Harry had a feeling she knew he'd been eavesdropping.

"Nosey tom," she growled, cuffing him over the ear with a sheathed paw. Then she bounded down the hallway stealthily, rounding the corner and out of sight.

Ron and Hermione stared at where she'd gone. "What was_ that_ about?" he questioned almost angrily. "That's cat's madder than Filch."

"Er…I'll explain later," Harry promised, and then slipped inside of the classroom. Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, shrugged, and followed him in.

"Gryffindor owls start! Ravenclaw owls hold your wings! Slytherin, swoop and drop…now! Go on, Fervrin, this isn't your first year! Hufflepuff owls, very nice work!" screeched a loud voice above the students in the Great Hall. Harry looked up, eyes wide, to see a bluish-black owl pointing with her talons and barking orders in sharp chirps.

"Can I get a bit of help?" called a brown-and-white barn owl as he flapped his wings furiously. "This package is heavy!" Two owls swooped in to help, grabbing hold of the strings wrapped around the brown papered package.

"What'd she send him, a troll?" grunted one owl. "This _is _heavy!"

"Told you!" hissed the first owl.

"Oi, you two! Quit the chirping and get to working!" the bluish black owl snapped.

"Yes, Rowena!" they called in unison.

Harry's green eyes sparkled with interest. He'd never known the owls were so busy!

"Hey, mate," Ron said. "What's with you?"

"The owls," Harry said, to both Hermione and Ron. "They're talking to each other. They're timed on when they move. Just wait…" Harry perked his ears to hear a bluish-black she-owl, Rowena, the one in charge, give commands.

"Okay, Ravenclaw owls! Get ready!"

Harry nodded. "Watch!" he said, pointing with a paw. "In just a moment, that blue one's going to send those owls to the Ravenclaw table to deliver mail."

"Go, go, go!" Rowena shouted. "Swoop and drop! Swoop and drop! Swoop and- _hey, don't go so close to the table!_"

Ron laughed, and Hermione smiled, interested. Ron nudged Neville and pointed to the Ravenclaw owl that had fallen into someone's mashed potatoes.

"Looks like their owls aren't as smart as they are, eh?" Ron snorted. Harry stifled laughter.

The owls slowly retreated, after successfully retrieving the lone owlet from the mashed potatoes. Although gravy slid off of his wings, he managed to flap his way out of the Great Hall.

Harry turned back to his own meal, shaking his head with amusement. _That's right,_ he thought. _I haven't seen Hedwig since the accident. I could understand the owls…so maybe I can go and _talk _to Hedwig. _

He nodded firmly to himself. He'd ask Swifty for a free period and go to see Hedwig before lunch. It was settled. He was going to see Hedwig.

Harry climbed up the stairs, paws aching and fur too heavy. His flanks heaved, and he panted heavily. He was nearly up to the top of the Owlrey now, but it had taken a lot of energy from him.

_Hermione was right,_ he admitted ruefully. After admitting his plan to go and see Hedwig, Hermione suggested against it, reminding him that he wasn't as big as he was before. _This _is_ tiring!_ He closed his eyes, pausing to catch his breath on a stair. Sitting, hunched over and gasping for breath, Harry felt cold. He fluffed out his fur, thick in the brisk air.

It was getting colder now, mid-October. It'd been two weeks since Harry's accident, and he was coping well if he said so himself. He was managing to train with Swifty and attend classes, and the rest of the school was slowly but surely getting used to it as well. He didn't hear whispers as often, and students stopped pointing at him in the halls.

One thing was nagging at him, though. What would he do during the holidays? He couldn't go back to the Dursley household as a _cat._ Dudley would step on him purposely, or do something to torture his feline cousin. Aunt Petunia would probably have him sent to a Muggle shelter, refusing to house a "stray." Harry shuddered at the thought, cast away as a street cat. But maybe, he thought hopefully, there would be a cure for him by the time the summer holidays came.

Something told him he wasn't going to be that lucky, though.

Harry cleared his head, giving it a quick shake, before getting to his paws and continuing his ascension of the tower. His paws churned one after another, smoothly bounding up the stairwell with more vigor than before. He was nearly there – and the trip down wouldn't be _nearly_ as exhausting! The thought made his heart rest easier.

Harry emerged to the top of the Owlrey. He let out a sigh of relief and collapsed on the ground, panting to regain his breath again. _Finally!_ Harry thought triumphantly, lifting his head. He peered into the Owlrey, inspecting it to see what was happening inside. Loud shouts echoed through the tower. He picked his ears up, curious.

"Hey, Sterling, you've got a delivery!" called a magnificent gray owl, holding out a rumpled package. A silvery-gray she-owl swooped down from her perch, hooting contentedly as she took the package from him in her talons.

A tiny Screech owl soared through an open window, beating his wings swiftly and landing on a perch. "I'm back, everyone!"

Another Screech owl flew up to meet him, pressing her beak against his for a brief moment before chirping, "Arjuna! Welcome back! I'm just headed out myself…"

"I have to take this to _where?_" wailed a young barred owl, staring with incredulity at the bluish-black owl Harry had seen in the Great Hall that morning.

_Wow,_ Harry thought with an awestruck look. The owls were so organized! They knew exactly what they were doing and where they were going… He shook his head, overwhelmed, and wondered how no one had noticed this before. The animals of Hogwarts had their own little secrets, apparently.

Harry saw a group of barn owls clustered together, sorting mail through the four houses. After them, a few Great Horned owls were sorting packages and letters, and one snowy owl was busy checking Daily Prophet subscriptions. Her talon kept her place in the order book as she passed down roll after roll of newsletters. Her face looked deep in thought, concentrating carefully on her task.

Harry's heart gave a jump as he recognized Hedwig. He wanted to call out to her, get her attention, but at the same time he didn't want to disturb her. She looked pretty swamped with work. Harry didn't want to just leave, though. He'd come all this way, and he was _exhausted._ He wasn't about to just turn around and go back to training!

He sighed, turning around to pace back and forth as he debated what to do. He could watch the owls for a bit…wait for one of them to notice him. Maybe cats visited often? There were plenty of pet cats in the castle, surely, so there was bound to be one or two that visited the Owlrey! Harry nodded to himself, pacing. He flicked his tail as he stared inside of the Owlrey. For some reason, the owls' sharp talons unnerved him.

_No. I won't be scared of owls,_ Harry thought determinedly. _I'm still human. They won't eat me or anything._ The thought frightened him though. _Do owls eat cats?_ Harry wondered fearfully. He shook his head. _No! Stop that!_

"Going somewhere, Potter?" drawled a voice behind him. Harry froze in his pacing, his fur bristling unhappily.

_I should've known this was coming sooner or later,_ Harry thought regretfully. "Malfoy," he growled, turning his head to see three Slytherins leaning against the wall on the steps to the Owlrey Tower. "Shouldn't you be in class?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you be minding your own business?" Malfoy retorted, scowling. "I thought that Squib's cat was supposed to be with you. Get tired of you already, did she, Potter?" _Squib? _Harry thought. _It's got to be Swifty. But what's a Squib?_

"I've got a free period," Harry answered, "which is more than can be said about you. Skiving class?" He eyed Crabbe and Goyle behind Malfoy. "All of you?"

"Binns won't notice," Malfoy growled. Harry cringed inwardly. _He's right,_ he admitted. _Binns doesn't notice anything._

"That's nice," Harry grunted. His ears flicked as Malfoy turned to his bruisers and jerked his head in Harry's direction. _He's not here to chitchat,_ Harry thought with an inward groan. _I thought not._ "Why are you here, anyway?" he asked calmly, instinctively thinking of what Swifty would do.

_Cats keep their cool,_ Swifty's voice murmured in his head, a memory of one of her lessons. _Never show fear. They can smell it._

_If they can smell through their own stench,_ Harry pointed out in his head, wrinkling his nose. All three Slytherins were drenched in the scent of the damp dungeons, where they all lived. It was a wonder how any of them slept at night through the reek.

"We just figured we'd send you back where you belong," Malfoy said, and Crabbe and Goyle sauntered forward as if on cue. Harry froze, tensing and glaring straight at Malfoy. "Only real wizards belong in Hogwarts."

Harry hardly had time to register what was about to happen before Goyle reached out with his hands. Harry leaped out of his reach, and blundered straight into Crabbe's waiting hands. Harry felt himself lifted by the scruff of his neck. He reached out and slashed with his claws, hoping to reach Crabbe and get him to drop Harry to the ground. Unfortunately, Crabbe did drop him, but not as Harry intended.

Malfoy held out his hands, which held a large brown box. Harry struggled against Crabbe's grip, and then he felt himself falling into the box. He landed with a thud, dazed, and quickly regained himself. He went to leap up, yowling, but then the box was closed shut and Harry only hit the top of it. Soft cardboard took the hit, but the box didn't open.

Harry heard paper, and then the cracks of the box where sealed as the box was wrapped. "Malfoy, let me out!" he yowled furiously. "Stop!" He heard Crabbe and Goyle laughing thickly as Malfoy sneered into the box.

"Say hello to the Muggles for me," he drawled. Harry lashed out with his claws, shredding part of the box, but it was too thick. He continued, lashing over and over again, but the cardboard was too thick and his claws too dull.

The hooting of owls grew louder, and then Harry realized that Malfoy was really going to send him back to the Dursleys. He let out a loud caterwaul. _"Hedwig!"_

Crabbe and Goyle stopped laughing, and the box stopped moving. Harry could tell that Malfoy had stopped in his tracks. Even the owls grew silent. Harry summoned his strength and rammed straight into the cardboard, trying to show that he was inside. _"Hedwig, get me out of here!"_ he pleaded.

"Harry!" cried a shocked voice. Harry heard the beating of wings, and then a loud screech. Then the Slytherins yelped, and Crabbe gave a loud cry.

"The bloody bird bit me!" he howled.

"It's not worth it!" Draco snarled. Harry squealed as the box flew into the air and then landed onto the ground with a thud. Footsteps echoed, and Harry heard Draco promise, "Next time your bloody owl won't be around to save your tail, fleabag!"

"Don't let there _be_ a next time!" Hedwig's voice chirped furiously.

The clicking of talons sounded right next to Harry's box. There was a ripping sound, and then Harry found that he could push the box open with his paws. He poked his head out to see a familiar snowy-white owl looming over him with warm, friendly eyes. All around the tower, owls were staring incredulously.

"Thanks, Hedwig," Harry sighed breathlessly.

"Anytime," Hedwig replied, just as awestruck. They both stared at one another, too overcome to say anything. "I, er…" Hedwig looked uncomfortable. "I'd heard the rumors, but I didn't know they were actually _true,_" his owl breathed.

"Er, yeah, they are," Harry replied awkwardly, flicking his ears. He could hear faint jeers in the background, from the other owls.

"_Bloody cat…"_

"…_still got the scar, see?"_

"…_cat. I tell you, anything would be better than that."_

"_Bloody animals…looks like the Patrol will want their paws on this one…"_

Hedwig turned her head and gave a loud screech. Her feathers looked ruffled as she snapped, "Anyone who's got a problem with Harry will answer to me! Got it?" Harry was astounded to hear such a powerful voice from his gentle pet, but the other owls all shrank back as if they knew her wrath and didn't want to be on the receiving end of it.

There were heads bobbing, and a long silence in which Hedwig glared around accusingly, daring someone to say something. Then Rowena the owl hopped forward, clearing her throat. Every owl turned to her. "Very well, you've heard it straight from Hedwig and Harry," she chirped formally, dipping her head to the pair. "The rumors are true. I don't want to hear any more talk of it. Quit your gossiping and get back to work."

"Yes Rowena," chorused the owls, including Hedwig. The snowy white owl turned her gaze on Harry. "I've got to go," she chirped with genuine regret in her voice. "I'm Head of the Newsletter Committee," she added proudly, puffing out her chest. Harry felt a surge of delight for his owl. "I've got to get back to work, but before I do that…" Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Want a ride back to the castle?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Harry Potter and the Godric's Curse**

**Harry Potter has a problem. Neville's screwed up, and this time Harry was dragged into it. No one knows how to fix him. Another problem: There's a monster inside Hogwarts turning students to stone. Worse? Harry's being blamed. It's going to be a long year.**

**Chapter Five  
Enter Midnight**

"Harry – Harry, wake up. We're going to be late for breakfast. Harry…"

Harry didn't respond. Snoozing comfortably, resting atop his pillow, Harry was deep in a dream. His tail flicked, and his whiskers twitched as he released a long sigh. Deep in his mind, things were happening.

Dream-Harry wasn't a small kitten anymore. He was a huge panther, black fur gleaming in the sunlight and tail lashing back and forth. A large snake hissed at him, slithering around him. Harry watched it anxiously, awaiting its inevitable lunge, but it did not strike. Instead, it _spoke_ to him.

"_Come to me…I await you…then, you'll sssssssee…we shall duel then…"_ it challenged him in a hiss.

Harry released a roar. "I'll duel you now!" he growled, propelling himself towards the snake. He felt confident as he snatched the snake up in his large paws, batting it to one side and sending it flying over the ground. He let out a yowl of triumph as the snake lay motionless on the ground a few feet away.

Then he approached it, and the snake suddenly turned on him and lunged.

"_Harry, _come on!" Ron's voice called. Harry jerked awake, leaping to his paws with wide eyes and fluffed-out fur. He hissed, looking around for the snake that had just attacked him…but then realized that he was only in his dormitory in Gryffindor Tower.

"Whoa – calm down," Ron said, backing away. Harry looked at Ron carefully, shaking his head of his lingering dream. "Come on; we're already late for breakfast."

Harry nodded once, clearing away all thoughts of his dream. He could hardly remember it now anyway. Instead he sat up, licking his ruffled fur, and then leaped off of the bed to follow Ron out of the room.

They met Hermione in the Common Room. "There you both are!" she sighed. "I've been waiting here for _ages!_" Ron and Harry opened their mouths to defend themselves, but Hermione just sighed and turned around. "Come on, then. Let's go." Ron and Harry shrugged and followed her, and they all made their way down to the Great Hall together.

Breakfast went by in a blur of bickering and eating. Harry finished eating early, not particularly hungry and feeling tired, and felt eyes watching him. He turned around to see Malfoy glowering at him from the Slytherin table. Harry curled his lip and lifted his chin. _You're not getting me again,_ he thought confidently. He'd have to think ahead in the future. Malfoy obviously still hated him for whatever reason, and since Harry was smaller he had less of a chance to fight back.

"What'd Malfoy do?" Ron hissed. Harry flicked his ear.

"Nothing," he lied, tearing his gaze from the look Malfoy had been giving him. Instead he faced his plate with a steely look. Hermione and Ron didn't look convinced. "What?"

"Well, obviously he did _something,_" Hermione said. "You seemed angry yesterday, after you visited Hedwig…and now Malfoy looks mad at you. There's a connection there, isn't there?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe," he said, "but it's over now." Not a single one of them believed that answer.

"_Yeah, with the cat thing and all, there's no point in trying to get yourself killed with Quidditch," Oliver Wood said dryly. He sighed. "You were the best Seeker, Harry. Nice work. Sorry about your accident."_

Harry looked back on these words now, as he strolled around the Quidditch Pitch. His face was filled with longing as he stared at the hoops that Oliver always defended for Gryffindor team. Harry still felt awful about his resignation. Quidditch had been one of Harry's favorite parts of going to Hogwarts. He loved riding a broom, the thrill of catching the golden snitch at the end of a game…

He stared down at his paws angrily. _These useless things couldn't catch a snitch if it fell straight into them. _With a wistful sigh, Harry tore his gaze from the Quidditch Pitch and looked back over at the castle. He wondered briefly what Swifty was up to. She'd seemed distracted when she met him earlier.

Her words had been brisk, and her tone clipped. _"Tom, I don't have time for you today. Go get some air, do something useful. You've got a free day. Enjoy it, because it's _not _happening again!"_

Then she left as quickly as she'd come and spoken (which was faster than even Hermione could muster).

Harry was unnerved by the ill-tempered she-cat's mysterious attitude today. She was usually difficult to please (in fact, Harry was unsure if he'd ever really pleased her at all), and she spent most of her time with Harry snapping at him and working with him.

Was there something wrong with her today? Harry was surprised to feel a pang of worry. Though the she-cat was awful to students and completely impossible to please… Well, Harry couldn't remember why he felt strangely worried, come to think of it. But it did worry him, in some way.

Harry jerked himself out of his thoughts and continued to stroll about. As he trotted down the path around the Quidditch Pitch, he felt strangely uplifted, even if he couldn't play the sport anymore. This was just a cheerful place, with lots of good memories.

With an extra spring in his step, Harry sniffed the air. It was crisp and cold, and smelled like frost was one its way. He breathed deeply, enjoying the mountain air.

Then he caught a whiff of something that startled him. _Another cat._ It wasn't one he knew; it wasn't Swifty. But it was most definitely a cat. His fur bristled with alarm.

There was a low hiss. That was Harry's warning. The scent of cat neared him, and Harry whipped around just in time to see a blur of black fur hurl itself at him.

Both black cats fell into a heap of writhing fur. Harry let out a screech to anyone else around, while the other cat hissed and then fought silently. The cat was a kitten, like Harry, with fur almost like his but with a tinge of blue. He had muscles beneath his shimmering black pelt, and Harry could feel them as the kitten pinned Harry down to the ground.

It was a tom, by the look of his face and his scent, but he was round-faced with youth and clearly inexperienced in fighting, like Harry. Harry locked eyes with his opponent – green against dark blue – and then he shoved with all of his might to push to black cat off of him.

The other cat, startled, let out a mew of surprise as Harry slunk away from his grip and then turned to face him with an arched back and a raised paw. "Go on, attack me!" Harry challenged in a hiss, pinning his ears back threateningly. His fur fluffed out to twice his usual size.

The other tom sat up, eyes puzzled and on Harry's collar. The fight was gone from the young black tom, and he began licking his ruffled fur. "You're odd, for a pet," he murmured quietly, rasping a paw over his face. "Not like the others. They all run."

"I'm not a pet!" Harry growled, but his fur was lying flat on his shoulders. Hostility in his eyes was replaced by suspicion. "Who are you?"

The tom paused in his washing and gave Harry an odd look. "Midnight," he answered finally. "My name's Midnight. You? Who are you supposed to be, not-pet?" he inquired.

Harry lowered his paw and relaxed his muscles. He tilted his head to one side when he saw the mischievous glint in the tom's dark blue eyes. Something about him was familiar somehow, but Harry couldn't put his paw on it. Something about him, though, was trustworthy. "Harry," he answered. "I'm Harry Potter."

Used to the usual reaction, Harry was somewhat surprised when Midnight's eyes didn't go straight to Harry's forehead, but instead he looked confused. "Wait…I've heard that name," he murmured thoughtfully. Then his tail shot up straight, and his whiskers twitched. "That's right! You're that human – that famous one – that…" He trailed off, motioning at Harry himself. "…Well, you know…"

Harry nodded. "Er, yes," he meowed. Then he frowned. "Wait. You talked about pets as if you aren't one." His eyes went to Midnight's throat, which was free of any collar. Midnight raised his chin proudly.

"No human can own me," he stated confidently. His tail flicked, and Harry felt surprised by the passion in Midnight's voice. "I don't know if you'd understand, though," he mewed at Harry. Harry frowned and flicked his ears to ask for clarification. "Well, humans just aren't the same. They wouldn't know the difference for cats…loners, pets…us…"

"Us?" Harry inquired. "There are more of you?" Alarm pulsed through him.

"Oh sure," Midnight answered. Then, as he was about to say more, he froze. "I should probably go," he hissed. "I'll be missed." Before Harry could ask, Midnight turned around and began bounding off. Then the tom turned over his shoulder and called, "I'll see you around, Harry Potter! Maybe we can have a rematch sometime!"

"Oh. Oh, um, okay!" Harry called back hesitantly. In all honesty, he wasn't quite sure what had just happened. He watched Midnight go with curiosity brimming in his mind. Something was familiar about that cat, but he wasn't sure what.

"Potter," McGonagall called from the front of the classroom, "I'd like to see you after class."

Harry looked up, puzzled, but he nodded. He exchanged glances with Ron, who shrugged. Harry sighed and rested his head on his paws and waited for the bell.

Transfiguration class was more boring than ever without practical work for Harry to do. In fact, there wasn't anything Harry _could_ do in _any_ of his classes. He couldn't write notes or homework, and he couldn't even participate in hands-on work.

It was frustrating, and Harry couldn't help but wish he was training with Swifty whenever he was in class.

The bell rang suddenly, and students shuffled towards the door. "See you at dinner," Harry said to Ron and Hermione, who bid him farewell and joined the other Gryffindor students in the crowd outside of the door. Harry sighed and leaped down from his chair, padding over to the front of the classroom where McGonagall was waiting for him.

Once the classroom was empty, McGonagall stared at Harry for a long time. Harry felt anxious. Was she about to tell him that he couldn't stay anymore? That it wasn't working out for him? Harry tried to muster an argument, so that he could stay, but then:

"This takes too long to explain." McGonagall got to her feet and began making her way towards the door. "It's best if I just show you. Come with me, Potter."


End file.
